


Routine

by PunkHazard



Category: Eyeshield 21
Genre: Gen, zombie apocalypse AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1496767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkHazard/pseuds/PunkHazard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it started when Agon smashed the blunt end of a crowbar through their father's head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Routine

Maybe it started when Agon smashed the blunt end of a crowbar through their father's head.

To be fair, dad had been trying to take a chunk out of Unsui and the older twin was never any good at flouting deeply-ingrained societal mores like filial piety the way Agon is, but even when their father's been turned into a zombie, the force and speed at which Agon'd done it was a little excessive. 

Unsui'd spent the next few minutes heaving bile into the kitchen sink, which he looks back on now with a vague sense of nostalgia. It's been a while since brain-splatter has been anything but a sign of of success and something to scrub out of his jacket later. 

"You fucking wuss," Agon had said as he prodded the body, pulling back their dad's collar to reveal the wound on the back of his neck, his own expression uncharacteristically grim. "You'd better not drag me down, idiot." 

(Unsui's always been a quick study; when his brain finally settles enough to allow his stomach to do the same, the first thing he'd said was, _We can't stay here_ , and the second thing was, _Agon, you're a mess. Go change._ ) 

* * *

"This one should do," Unsui says from the top of a high, sturdy metal-and-brick gate, surveying a small but well-maintained yard before dropping onto the grass. Agon hops down after him, circling the perimeter in the direction opposite his twin to check the dark corners of it, even kicking the bushes a few times to make sure there's nothing in them. 

Safety is the least of Agon's worries, in most cases, but always at the forefront of Unsui's mind. Agon had picked up a baseball bat somewhere between their home and the house they've settled on (a small one nearly a kilometer away) and handed the crowbar he'd used on their father to Unsui. Unsui'd spent a good two minutes scrubbing away any residual grime and bone fragments with a jersey he'd found, pointedly ignoring Agon's griping about neuroses and how cleaning it up isn't gonna make it any less the thing that killed dad. 

( _I know_ , he'd said, _that's why I'm going to keep using it_ , like he felt guilty about it, like there was anything else they could have done, like there was some way he could've saved their father if he'd been quicker or stronger or less afraid to hurt him, which Agon thinks is stupid anyway, because Unsui wasn't ever even dad's favorite twin, so what does he owe him, anyway?) 

"Probably still someone in there," Agon says as he finishes scouting the garden, moving to the door of the house and trying the knob. "Or something, 's locked." 

Unsui's already at the window, opening the outer screen and cupping his hands over a clear panel to peer inside, then pressing his palms against the glass to push it up. 

"I don't want to have to clean up if we can help it." He's fairly certain they have the same idea, but he lightly raps the windowsill with his crowbar and then steps back as the sound draws the attention of what used to be a man, probably mid-thirties and single, considering the size of the house -- "Once he gets to the window, we can drag him out." 

Agon quirks an eyebrow but moves into position, swinging his bat restlessly at his side as first a hand, then a head reaches through the window. When it pauses, he uses the blunt tip to rap the knuckles on the half-decomposed limb, as if coaxing a cat out from under a couch with a feather toy. "Stuck," he says, and makes a grab for its shirt collar. 

Unsui gets to his arm before Agon reaches the zombie, dragging it away with a frantic, excessive force that's been the only sign of true panic he's shown so far. 

"I'm not gonna fucking get bitten, Unko-chan." 

"No. Stay out of reach." 

Paranoia has served Unsui well in the last few weeks, and Agon has no intention of breaking his brother's habit of carefully, meticulously studying every situation no matter how fucking annoying it can be, so he rams the head of his bat into the zombie's mouth instead of grabbing for its shirt. 

Unsui hooks the gooseneck of his crowbar immediately into its collar -- behind the shaft of bone, poking it through layers of cloth and flesh -- knuckles bone-white as he starts to pull, gamely ignoring the squelching, grating sound of friction between metal and muscle and bone. 

The walker flops onto the grass as they pull it free, except it lands on its face after Agon's already shattered its jaw, so when the mandible works itself free of whatever little skin and muscle are still holding it to the skull and the bloody chunk of bone flies off and bounces lightly off his shin, Unsui jerks backwards so fast, hands still on his crowbar, that the collarbone splinters under the pressure and a spray of half-coagulated blood splatters over his sneakers from the wound. 

Unsui manages to suppress a dry-heave long enough to calmly hand his weapon to Agon (who's already started on disposal -- that is, properly bashing the zombie's head in and then tossing it over the gate) and walk, with great purpose and calm, to lean against the garden wall in lieu of tipping over where he stands. 

Agon's laughing as he crawls through the window, and still snickering when he unlocks the door and lets Unsui in. 

* * *

Agon shaves his hair off after they've been established for a month. 

He shuffles into the bathroom while Unsui's rinsing out his mouth one morning (toothpaste is in short supply-- they ration it carefully), picks up his twin's buzzer and mows his locks down so the only remainder is about a head full of 2 cm-long stubs. (It's predictable that a buzzer would be Unsui's first priority -- that, and securing a solar battery pack to keep it charged. Anyone who says Agon is vainer than his brother is a filthy fucking liar.) 

Unsui's staring, toothbrush still caught between his teeth, stepping away from the cascade of tightly-wound hair while he watches Agon isolate each handful and then sever the locks. 

It's a matter of convenience more than vanity, Unsui knows, because Agon _loves_ his dreads and if he's shaved them off, then it means he's buckling down for the long haul. But it's differentiation, that he isn't just going to buzz everything down to the scalp, not if he has a choice. 

Agon reaches into the cabinet over the sink for a bottle of conditioner (still nearly three-quarters full-- neither of them use it) and dispenses a good amount onto the short remains of his hair while Unsui washes his own face, then hands over a comb the previous residents had left on the bathroom counter. 

Unsui also starts toeing the mass of hair on the floor into a pile, deciding to stick around and watch Agon try and undread. Entertainment is in short supply during the apocalypse. 

"End of an age," Unsui comments wryly from his spot on the edge of the bathtub, nearly an hour later as Agon towels off his head. "I'll fix the back for you." 

His hair is curled, almost puffy when he sits down in front of Unsui, towel thrown over his shoulders while his brother takes the buzzer and comb to his head, leaving it short but wild -- only trimmed so the edges aren't quite so ragged. Unsui rakes his fingers through what's left of Agon's hair when he's done, ruffling it into some semblence of order. 

"I don't think you'll have it back to normal for a while," he says, "and we don't have the peroxide to waste on you bleaching it." 

"Aah, don't sound so happy about that. Idiot." 

* * *

It's 2 am, according to Unsui's watch and he can't sleep (he'll be able to as soon his breathing goes back to normal and the image of Agon exploding dad's brains all over the living room fades from his mind again). The steady inhale-exhale of his brother's breath from the other corner of the room is the only thing Unsui can hear-- is the only thing he strains his ears for-- over the sounds of fleshy bumping and shuffling that drift in from the street outside. 

They're in the same room, door locked and window barred. The possibility of being separated or that Unsui would be too far away to warn his twin if their base were compromised is far worse than the idea that they might have to fight their way out of the place together. (They're both acutely aware of the fact that there's no such thing as _safe_ in this world, only _safer_.) 

Agon's taken to sleeping with his aluminum baseball bat loosely held in one fist. The bat that Unsui nags him to clean every night or else it'll start to smell like rotting flesh and they get enough of that stench outside, honestly. His twin likes the visceral sound of bone crunching under impact, wet thud of blunt weapon tearing through internal organs-- Agon is messed up but Unsui would be a hypocrite if he said he weren't the same. 

(He personally likes the versatility, the precision, the sharp tips and useful hook of a steel crowbar. It's far less messy to thrust the point through an eyesocket and swirl the brain around than to spray skull and gray matter everywhere-- not to mention how handy it is to hook the gooseneck into a mouth or nose cavity from behind. 

Agon calls him a headcase almost as often as he tells Agon to please _try_ and look like he's not having fun when they're surrounded and smashing heads in. 

_Aah?! At least I'm not fucking trying to pretend I'm not,_ is the usual reply and Unsui really doesn't have anything to say to that.) 

He shifts, sighs, settles with his face pressed into his pillow and tangles his blanket even more tightly around his legs. 

There's an echo of rustling fabric from Agon's corner, then, "Go the fuck back to sleep, idiot." 

Unsui's silent for a few seconds, but then he flips onto his back and folds his arms behind his head, drawling, " _You_ go back to sleep, idiot." 

"Don't tell me what to do," Agon retorts, before he kicks his blankets off, sets his bat on the floor and stands up. 

"Agon?" 

"Calm down, mom." 

Agon ducks into the bathroom and closes the door behind him. Unsui shuts his eyes, yawns, and when he feels Agon's hands shoving at the side of his face, he rolls over to make room. 

"Move it," Agon says, just to be contrary, because Unsui's already lifted up the edge of his blanket. 

"Go back to your own bed," he advises futilely as Agon shoves him again and takes the warm spot he leaves behind. 

"It's fucking cold over there." 

"You wanted the spot by the window." 

"Shut up." 

Unsui frowns, then shifts again so Agon's shoulder blades aren't digging quite so uncomfortably into his spine. "Did I wake you up?" 

"Wasn't asleep anyway, baldie." 

"Again?" 

"You know when you crunch ice." 

They haven't bothered with ice in months, but Unsui remembers how it would give, slightly, under the pressure of his molars before splitting down the middle and breaking into hundreds of tiny pieces, every crackle echoing up through his teeth into his ears. (How, once he'd gotten the hang of bashing skulls in, that same crunchy feeling would reverberate up his arms. It's comforting, once in a while, to learn that no matter how different he and Agon are, they'll always operate on the same wavelength.) 

"That's terrible for your teeth," he says. 

"Was just like that." 

And maybe it's just because Unsui's never been especially close to their father that he can joke about it now, or maybe he's spent so much time around Agon that it barely even registers how morbid this conversation is getting, but he says, almost admiringly, "Perfect form from the beginning." 

Agon snorts, but he doesn't protest when Unsui reaches behind to twist a hand into his shirt, tangling his fingers into the material at his side. Agon's breathing slows, evens out and he murmurs, "Of fucking course, idiot," into his pillow seconds before Unsui jerks back awake to the sound of a grating snore right in his ear. 

* * *

Unsui likes cool, early mornings-- the undead move slower. Though it's not always a good thing, especially since it gives him time to see their faces in the creeping dawn and he'd been trying not to think about it but Miroku had been working on a physics degree at Showa U, probably taking a class at its Tokyo branch, and last Unsui'd heard, he'd been doing great and was really acing his core classes. 

(Unsui doesn't hesitate.) 

"If you fucking break down on me," Agon warns, eyes locked on his face. 

"Agon, I'm not." He's dismissive, as he is about most things these days, and he starts scraping his crowbar on the grass, before the sticky, black blood can drip down its length and make his grip slippery. 

Agon's approach is silent, dangerously quick and he shoves an unbloodied corner of his bat against his cheek, turning it in front of Unsui's face so the trace of moisture glints against the metal. "The fuck is this, then?" 

"It's probably just the cold," he replies contemplatively, scrubbing at his eyes and regarding the damp edge of his sleeve with no small measure of curiosity. "I don't feel anything." 

Agon is silent. 

"Let's go home," Unsui offers, voice tired. "You have to get cleaned up." 

'Cleaned up' nowadays means grabbing an old tee and scrubbing down with as little water as humanly possible. Agon strips out of his now-torn, bloody shirt, gets all the splatter off his face and arms and shades and tosses the t-shirt they'd been using to Unsui to wipe off his hands. Unsui lobs it in a beautiful, precise arc into the bin they sometimes take down to the canal to do laundry, or at least what passes for laundry. (It mostly involves Unsui hurriedly sloshing the clothes around with a bar of soap and then a quick rinse while Agon keeps watch for any incoming zombies. They get as far upstream as possible and jump the fence where the water hasn't been contaminated yet by decomposing bodies.) 

Unsui looks blank, which isn't so different from his usual contemplative silence, except for the moping. Agon calls it moping but Unsui doesn't _mope_ , he moves with purpose and it's that difference that he locks onto, that he hates, that means his twin's losing direction and letting go of whatever's kept him held fast to -- whatever's kept him sane since this whole thing began. 

_I don't feel anything._

Agon thinks feeling is overrated anyway, and Unsui tries to stop but he isn't supposed to fucking _succeed_. Only weak pieces of trash shut down and go numb when the world goes to shit, people who're worth anything shut up and deal with it. 

Unsui's hanging out by the window, looking outside but it's been so long since either of them could learn anything from watching the undead move that Agon thinks he's probably just spacing out or dwelling on having to smash Miroku's head in, which is stupid, because what else could he have done? Besides, now their old classmate can move on and reincarnate as a flower or something. 

"Hey," Agon says. 

Unsui doesn't look at him, scratches the back of his neck and pulls his lips back into a brief grimace. "I thought he was with Sanzo," he says impassively. "Thought for a long time that it'd be the worst thing in the world to turn around and see someone I know and have to -- you know." 

"And?" 

"Easier than I imagined." 

There are, in the grand scheme of things, not a lot of things Agon is torn between loving and hating. Football falls into that category, sometimes, though if anyone asked he'd insist that he fucking hates that masochistic sport and really only likes the fame it brings and the opportunity to smash opposing players into the astroturf. 

Unsui endears himself by virtue of _being_ himself, and for all the ways he's a huge fucking crybaby sometimes (twice in four years is two times too many), Agon can easily get on board with his twin's darker moments. What he hates is when Unsui turns that back on him, when his expression says _There are worse things than caving in an old teammate's head; like losing you_ , and Agon knows he's thought about it more times than either of them care to count, that he's reduced this entire fucking Situation into that dumbass idea with his usual single-minded intensity. 

(For his own part, Agon has never in a million fucking years considered that his brother might get himself dead. Routine, dead and dying trash, no one needs that shit but Unsui isn't any of those. Unsui's _annoying as hell_ , he'd crawl back from the grave just to lecture him on making a mess in the kitchen, so if Agon doesn't return the sentiment, Unsui'll know exactly why even if everyone else in the world thinks that makes him callous.) 

"He should've been evacuated with everyone else," Unsui says with the quiet finality that means he'll stop thinking out loud but there's no chance in hell that he'd actually give that line of thought a rest. In fact, his tone implies, he's going to be dwelling on it for weeks, probably wondering which other teammates he had thought were safe could have ended up as zombie chow. 

"Shut up," Agon snaps, stalking to the window and curling a hand into Unsui's shirt, jerking him to his feet. His eyes narrow behind the tint of his Juliets and Unsui exhales deeply, curls his fingers over Agon's wrists and digs his nails into his skin. 

"Agon?" 

"Shut _up_ ," Agon says again, drags Unsui forward and smashes their foreheads together. 

Unsui's hands fly off his wrists like they've been burned and Agon laughs as he lets go, pushing his twin away so his back hits the wall with a dull thud. 

"What else would you have done, idiot? Let him bite you?" 

"First of all," Unsui says, voice clipped as he prods at what will no doubt be a bump for the next three weeks and slides down the wall to sit, "that hurt." 

Agon snorts. 

"And we did what we had to. I don't have any regrets." 

"Besides, you think the _government_ knows what it's doing? Maybe they got evacuated and whatever trash was running that shitshow fucked everyone over, you ever think of that, aah?" 

"You're not seriously asking me that." 

That had been the first possibility they'd considered when they made the decision to head back to Kanagawa instead of staying in Tokyo and leaving with their classmates, back when the trains still ran -- Unsui had been confident that they could weather whatever happened better alone and neither of them like depending on other people, so heading home to rendezvous with dad and get out of a densely-populated city was a good idea at the time. 

Unsui'd tossed around the idea of heading for Shinryuuji, and they've been putting that off, but it doesn't sound like a bad idea, all things considered. Except that the hot springs and waterfall would make it a prime squatting area for anyone in the vicinity, and being around people is the last thing either of them want to do. Besides, who's to say that they won't need to clear the school of over three hundred students if they wanted to stay there? It's not worth the trouble. 

"Aah, suck it up and deal, Unko." 

Agon extends a hand and Unsui takes it, letting his twin haul him easily to his feet and brush his palm over the stubble on the crown of his head.


End file.
